


Sharpe's Tactic

by InkSiren



Series: Sharpe's Fanfic [3]
Category: Sharpe (TV), Sharpe - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Gen, Hearts, Light Romance, Marksmanship contest, Richard can't help himself honestly, Shooting Guns, Sniper type tactics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27910483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkSiren/pseuds/InkSiren
Summary: Ellie has been watching how Richard and the other Rifles shoot, and she's pretty sure she knows something they don't.AKA, Ellie shoots between heartbeats.
Series: Sharpe's Fanfic [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2034673
Kudos: 4





	Sharpe's Tactic

**Author's Note:**

> If you know me you know the drill. Flirting, fluff, angst, hearts, whump, and banter. That's what I build my stories out of. Nothing new here.

Ellie is close as she watches the Rifles practice, but she has eyes only for Richard. He is beautiful to watch, (beautiful in general), and his practiced hands flit over the rifle with an ease and a calm that she finds very pleasing to observe. 

He raises the rifle for another shot, and almost as if she can slow him at will to appreciate him better she sees many things that happen quickly happen slowly. The space of a few heartbeats feel like minutes. 

He clicks back the cock, tilts his head just slightly, breathes out a long breath that causes the handsome green and black of his coat to fall, and with a practiced twitch he pulls the trigger.

He hits perfectly, as he has the last three shots, and Ellie smiles coyly, having caught something she doubts even he knows. She’s been watching, curious, for the last several shots, and this time with the sun in the so conveniently exposed space between collar and jaw she’s confirmed her theory.

Richard Sharpe, as she suspects all the rifles do, shoots between heartbeats.

He must feel her eyes on him and he turns, a spark of pride in his green eyes at his own marksmanship. He’s smiling slightly, and she thinks he must have the warmest smile of any man she’s ever met. 

He must see her own pride and his expression turns to one of amused confusion. “What is it lass, have I missed something?” 

She shakes her head once, still with that coy smile. “The mark, certainly not Major Sharpe. I think, however, that I know something of yourself you do not.”

“Do you?” he asks, that smile turning flirtatious as he approaches her, planting his rifle in the grass and resting his arm on it. “And what is that?”

She returns his flirtatious expression, stepping one closer and looping an arm around his shoulders, resting across the back of his neck. His eyebrows go up and she keeps his eyes, settling her free hand on his chest. “I know how you shoot so very well every time, and I don’t think even you know that.”

He snorts, tossing his head like a young horse. “Oh I certainly bloody do, it’s dozens upon dozens of rounds of practice. And,” he adds, “the promise that I’ll live longer if I’m a better shot than my enemy.” 

“That’s incentive, not reason,” she says, tapping his chest playfully. “And while practice has trained you, I refer to a habit born of practice I am willing to wager you are entirely unconscious of.” 

He keeps her eyes, a playful challenge in them for a long moment before: “Go on then. What do you know about me?”

“You shoot only in the perfect stillness between the beats of your heart.” 

His expression turns slightly more puzzled. “And how could you have worked that out?” 

“You have a very strong pulse, Major. When the sun touches your throat just so,” she says, brushing fingers along the soft space beneath his jaw and causing him to freeze, “it is quite visible when one looks for it.” 

“You were looking for it? Why?” he asks, not defensive, just baffled. 

“Because I myself have learned to shoot between heartbeats, and I was curious whether you did the same. I do it consciously, and it is one reason I find shooting from the ground very helpful.”

“Because you can feel your heart beating more clearly,” Richard says, understanding dawning. His expression turns incredulous. “Bugger me, I’ve never noticed before and now I wonder if I really do.” 

She shrugs, pleased with herself. “One way for you to confirm.” 

“Not sure I’ll do it now,” he says. “Now I’m thinking about it I’ll be more focused on my pulse than my shot and it’ll ruin the whole thing.” 

“Lucky you don’t need to then, provided you’re willing to believe me,” she says cheekily. “I watched you do it just now four times over.” 

“How curious, wonder if we all do that,” he says, looking across at his men. 

“I imagine you do, especially Rifleman Hagman.”

“Oh yes him I can imagine that,” Richard agress, then glances at Patrick, who is trading some kind of joke with Harris. “Pat may be just the opposite with his gun. He needs everything he’s got to keep him up when that bloody cannon goes off.”

“It is an impressive weapon,” she agrees, turning to look with him. “Every man to his own tactic, and look how well it’s served you all.” 

“Indeed it has. Still, what an odd thing to notice. It does make me wonder--”

“What’s that?”

“Thick of battle when I can barely stand my chest for the way my heart’s bloody pounding I wonder that I’ve space between to shoot at all.” 

Her expression falls then, sympathy taking over her coyness. She thinks he didn’t mean it to turn the conversation somber but she’s so accustomed to rifles being a game that the thought of the fear tied with them sobers her. 

Richard sees the way her delight falters and he reaches up, touching the hand she has back on his chest. 

“Now, lass, I meant naut by that. Only thinking.”

She offers a softer smile, nodding once even though her expression is still pained. “I know. As am I.”

He doesn’t seem satisfied with that, and as she goes to pull away from him he squeezes her hand, a gentle strength stopping her. “What can I do? You were smiling so prettily just a moment before, I regret to have caused you to lose it.”

She studies him for a moment, then tilts her head, the flirtatious challenge coming back. “Rematch. This time, you’ll be thinking about what I’ve told you, and perhaps I’ll win fairly.”

He smiles, nodding once. “Aye. Perhaps you shall.”


End file.
